Tables are Turning
by Sebastian the Mercat
Summary: Nathan is not happy. Someone...someone left NERD GRAFFITI on HIS booth...and he WILL get his revenge. Maybe. Probably not. Grahamscott


**_Salutations dearie! Old fanfic, oh well! It's cute!_**

 ** _Warnings: Nathan. Cursing. Etc._**

 ** _Pairing: Grahamscott_**

 ** _Important note: This was written previous to the release of episode 5. But seriously. Fuck that episode._**

Nathan glared down at the tabletop for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. The source of his supreme and utter irritation remained unchanged.

He had been hoping to go to Two Whales to relax, not to have to deal with something that caused him to freak.

Really, it was stupid he was freaking out. It was just a table. It was just writing. 'Nerd writing,' the voice in his head sneered. 'Nerd graffiti.'

Nathan clenched his hands into fists, forcing his eyes to focus on his coffee instead of the scribble marks on the table. But, of course, it was no use. His eyes whipped back to the marks, his anger mounting.

"He carved shit into my booth," Nathan growled under his breath. "That fucking nerd fucking touched my fucking booth."

Nathan forced himself to take a few deep breaths, noticing the way the diner woman was giving him a warning glare.

He realized the booth wasn't exactly "his" - he realized a variety of different asses settled into the exact place he was sitting, in that moment. But to think that someone had the audacity to sit there and deface that place - one of the few places in the world Nathan felt he could escape - irked Nathan to no end.

He jumped nearly a foot in the air at hearing the ringing of the bell from the entrance of the cafe. Immediately, his surprised expression soured. It was him. The one he just KNEW wrote that fucking nerd graffiti all over his booth. "Graham," Nathan snapped, before he could stop himself. Warren Graham turned from giving the diner lady a nice smile, glancing at Nathan in confusion. Nathan thrust a finger to the seat across from his, threat evident in his eyes. Warren hesitantly wondered over, before plopping in the seat. "The doctor is in. How may I-"

"Did you do…" Nathan gestured vaguely at the equations scribbled on the table, "…do that?"

Warren laughed slightly, shrugging. At Nathan's furious expression, he hastened to explain. "I just got carried away with my homework-"

"There's no excuse for this!" Nathan exclaimed, his voice going up in pitch.

Warren's eyebrows shot up.

"I'm…sorry?" Warren murmured. He glanced around, as though he expected a film crew to come bursting out of some place. When he realized that wasn't happening, he looked back to Nathan. "Okay, I don't understand. You're the guy that breaks every rule in existence and is super disrespectful - you tried to steal our totem pole for fuck's sake! Why the hell do you care so much about there being a little bit of writing on this booth?"

Nathan opened his mouth to say something snarky back, but his words froze in his throat.

He really shouldn't care that much. Why did he?

He thought back to what he had been thinking about earlier - about how he would come to that diner late at night, to escape his family. About how he would come there early in the mornings during the school year to escape the guys in his dorm.

In Nathan's mind, that booth had became his escape. And Warren's scribbling all over it…it made him feel like that one place had been taken away from him. Nathan quickly stood up, keeping his head down. He wasn't sure if he was crying, or if the glorious smell of food cooking was what was making his eyes water. "Never mind," Nathan murmured, as he made his way towards the exit.

He didn't make it that far, though, because a hand stopped him.

Warren's hand, to be precise.

"What are you-" Nathan began to snap.

"I am sorry…about the booth," Warren said hesitantly.

Nathan tried to tug his arm free. "What the fuck ever-"

"No, hear me out!" Warren pleaded. Briefly, his eyes darted to the diner lady. Nathan noticed she was giving the both of them a warning look. Glancing back at Warren, he sat back down, but his guarded expression remained.

"I…understand it," Warren said quietly. "I mean…I come here to escape too…"

"I never said-"

Warren gave him a small smile. "I've…seen you in here before. I…noticed the way you always seemed a little…calmer? More at ease…" Warren blushed, running a hand through his hair. "Not that I'm like creeping on you or anything."

Nathan felt himself relax slightly, against his own volition.

"I'm sorry for messing up your booth, but maybe…" Warren's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "U-uh, never mind."

Nathan rose an eyebrow. "What?"

"I was…thinking…maybe…we could get some…coffee…or something…I mean-"

Nathan felt a small smile spread itself across his lips. "Sure."

Warren stared at him in shock. "What?"

Nathan immediately wiped the smile off his face, scoffing and turning his head to the side. He willed his blush to go away. "I mean, you already violated my booth, you might as well violate my coffee break."

Warren felt himself smile, as he waved for Joyce to bring them coffee.

 ** _A/N I like these dorks. I think I'll keep them!_**

 ** _Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please leave a review!_**


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